This past week, we had a strong wind that brought with it heavy thundershowers.
I like thundershowers, as the loud cracks of thunder and lightning ricocheting across the sky usually puts, in its own way, additional oxygen into the air, which greens up the corn and other spring crops.
This shower was no different; you could almost see our twin patches, one early, one later, of table corn turn a brighter green as we watched.
When Jenney, my jitney, and Foxy and I made our usual rounds to talk to the animals the next morning, we became aware of one other thing. Many of the large trees that were severely damaged by the tornado several years ago had shed many of their large limbs that had, one after the other, died back.
A good example of this was a large maple that bordered our front lane. It had been twisted and turned so severely during the tornado that the outer layer of its bark had released its hold on the trunk. It had every indication that it should have been cut down for firewood, but for some reason, it was decided to give it a chance.
Over the next several years, the tips of its large limbs failed to leaf out. Each year, they died back further. But this year, even though the lower half of the tree leafed out thickly, they towered naked high above. My father used to refer to these trees as widowmakers. It was easy to see why.
Around the tree in our front lane stood four large limbs that had apparently fallen with the winds and the rains from the night before. The large end of each limb had firmly plunged into the ground about four feet out from the tree’s base, strangely evenly spaced, the length of each limb leaning in against the trunk of the big tree.
It is not difficult to see the reason why these trees should be carefully removed.
The base end of each of these fallen limbs had stuck six or more inches deep into the soils, having plunged like an arrow from high up above. Men, women and children would not even know they were falling. These widowmakers should undoubtedly be treated with respect.
As we continued to make our usual rounds while the sun was rising steadily high over the tree line of our corner hardwood bush, silhouetted against the light blue cloudless sky, I could not count on one hand the number of trees that will be in need of removal.
It looks like we will have a good supply of firewood to toast marshmallows on in our fire pit in our backyard over many summers.
As we still have several large trees downed by the tornado not yet cleaned up, it might be a wise idea to put one of those pot-bellied woodstoves in our workshop. It might be nice to warm cold hands while fixing machinery in the dead of winter.
Widowmakers though they be, their split-block lengths can warm both body and soul in the shivery cold days of long winters.
Take care, ‘cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105